


Internal Bleeding

by RedFlagsAndDiamonds



Series: "Life of the House" One-Shots [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Cheating, Children, Extramarital Affairs, Hospitals, Hurt Peter Parker, Infidelity, Marriage, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Vacation, Wealth, hurt/some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFlagsAndDiamonds/pseuds/RedFlagsAndDiamonds
Summary: Peter is critically wounded while traveling with the Starks. Pepper is put uncomfortably close to Peter and Tony's relationship, and encounters another injured party.Implied Peter Parker/Tony Stark





	Internal Bleeding

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Private Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813937) by [DaScribbla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaScribbla/pseuds/DaScribbla). 



> Set, once again, in DaScribbla's "Private and Intimate Life of the House" series. Go read her stuff. Seriously.

“Family vacations” had a slightly different definition in the Stark household, one that four-year old Maria Stark had fortunately never questioned.

Pepper had learned to take her victories where she could find them, and put on a smile for her daughter as they traipsed around the Galapagos together in shorts and hiking boots, giggling at the booby-birds dancing on one foot, and making up names for the massive, ponderous tortoises as they lavished them with leaves to eat. Pretending that Tony wasn’t enjoying a late champagne breakfast after their jet had brought him back from the Argentine casino tables the night before, Peter Parker fast asleep in the seat beside him, auburn head lolling on Tony’s shoulder.

Pepper had always given herself credit for her vivid imagination. It was an asset as well as a downfall.

Peter’s selfishness hadn’t been subconsciously ingrained by a life of unending privilege, like some, but simply through the natural entitlement most teenagers seemed to have. It made him a bit unpredictable, and meant Pepper couldn’t tell whether he’d agreed to “babysit” Maria for the afternoon out of some hint of remorse, or simply because he genuinely liked playing the big brother. Ultimately, the motive wasn’t important, when it meant that she could have a rare evening in the company of her husband, who actually managed to be kind and adoring when there was no one else in the room to whom his wife could be compared.

Maybe they could even squeeze in a rare shower together. She’d missed those.

By three-thirty, Peter and Maria were on the jet and heading for Lima, (along with Daniela, Caezario, and the family photographer – “babysitting” was a habitual term) and Pepper had fallen into the age old clichéd role of the middle aged wife, trapped in a desperate attempt to make herself fascinating to her philandering husband.

Kirsten had set the hotel restaurant reservation for seven PM, pre-dinner cocktails and all, and when Tony actually managed an appreciative, affectionate smile when Pepper emerged from the bedroom in a pair of pink Manolo Blahniks and drenched in Chanel no.5, she was dumb enough to get her hopes up.

They’d barely gotten past the tuna tartare before the call came.

 

*

 

“I don’t give a damn about wait lists or hospital boards or what those sons of bitches down at immigration have to say; you get Fyne off the ground in three minutes – why?- why? - because _I said so!_ – it’s Miraflores Trauma and Critical, enough with the questions, just get him there! End call!”

The phone casing snapped against the paneling of the jet cabin when Tony (presumably) sent it flying in a typical display of temper, while Pepper kept her eyes fixed firmly towards the televid screen imbedded in the rear-facing seat.

The nanny looked shell-shocked, but was putting up a decent professional façade.

“ – no, just tell her I’ll be there as fast as I can… and Dani? Have Caezario get you a coffee or a hot cocoa, you look terrible –“

The call ended not long after, the screen went dark, and Pepper leaned back against the cushions of the sofa. Her limbs felt numb, and there was a sort of hazy non-reality surrounding everything that moved, breathed, or spoke which kept her hoping she might blink her eyes open and wake up back in their suite, with her husband’s face resting unconsciously on her belly.

According to Daniela, both men had been waiting in line behind them. Some artisan chocolate stand at Larcomar. Maria had probably wanted sweets, and Peter spoiled her, he was as bad as Tony… Both were middle-aged, white, and American, or made a good show of being American, and both had been armed. Judging by their nationality and the evident preplanning, the Peruvian authorities were already theorizing about a possible kidnapping conspiracy, and that was an entirely separate helping of terror and heartbreak that Pepper didn’t have the time to deal with right now.

Put simply, Caezario had been keeping his distance as usual, and had been too far to intervene until it was too late. One of the assailants had grabbed for Maria, Peter had snatched her up first, and within several seconds somebody’s gun had gone off.

Height, it seemed, made all the difference in the world. The bullet had grazed Maria’s shoulder – several inches to the right, and it would have gone through the center of her throat - passed straight across muscle and ligaments, and tore open the left side of Peter’s stomach.

Dazedly, Pepper doubted that the children’s department at Barney’s offered refunds for damage caused by bloodstaining.

Tony had started pacing between the seats, tension making his shoulders tremble.

Somewhere in her mind, Pepper knew that ideally, he expected her to keep up the show of pretended ignorance and convince all who asked that she genuinely believed her husband’s only concern was the well-being and safety of their daughter. Moreover, that the teenage boy travelling on their dime was nothing more than a sweet kid liked well enough by the family.

She’d played silent and blind before, being Tony’s PA had required nothing less – by now, her skin was thick enough to withstand a missile or two, let alone strangers’ snide comments when they thought she was out of hearing.

The cockpit intercom pinged, and both of them leapt about three feet vertically.

“ _Mr. and Mrs. Stark, we apologize for the turbulence delay, and we will be starting our descent to Lima Airport in ten minutes…”_

“I should call his aunt…” Tony muttered suddenly, not moving.

Uncertain if she was meant to have heard, Pepper closed her eyes and straightened her back. The jet engines hummed, and she said nothing.

 

*

 

Maria could be heard about four minutes before she could be seen, and just like always, Pepper tried not to feel aggrieved that it was “daddy” she screamed for. Children didn’t necessarily think rationally during traumatic events.

She was sobbing on Daniela’s lap when they found her, wrapped in a tiny duckling printed gown and an enormous pad of sterile gauze taped to the junction between her throat and shoulder.

“Shhh, Buttercup – it’s all over –“ Tony was murmuring as she drenched the front of his button-down in tears, before pressing a kiss to her hair and setting her back down.

“Where is he?!”

Without asking for clarification, a freckled nurse pointed down the adjoining hallway.

Pepper teetered for balance on her stiletto heels while she knelt on the floor, clutching her daughter and closing her eyes – the better to focus on the warm, breathing, sweet-smelling little body in her arms, and to spare herself the sight of her husband heading down the corridor at a run.

 

*

 

While Maria was still sedated from the bronchoscopy, the pediatric trauma surgeon made the call to wheel her down to imaging for an arteriogram, and one of the nurses suggested that Pepper use the two or more hours of inactivity to change and get some much needed rest. Kirsten, with her usual maddening efficiency, had already taken a helicopter back to the hotel for sweatpants and toiletries, leaving Pepper to wander down the hallway to Recovery, in search of an escaped spouse.

Several nurses shot questioning stares as she passed, her shoes dangling from one manicured hand and her hair long since tugged out of the neat chignon she’d been so proud of, earlier in the evening. Let them think she was a bar-banging casualty, she could afford the judgment.

It was a Monday night – only one of the recovery rooms was in use, and though the lights were dimmed it was easy to make out the two figures just past the interior window, one hunched on a chair and gently leaning over the other, half-hidden under cream-colored blankets in the enormous mobile bed.

Peter was clearly still under some heavy anesthetics, and only mumbled senselessly while Tony stroked his hair.

It was a pity that in his many years of life, Tony had never learned the fine art that was whispering.

“… leave the bad guys with guns to the good guys with guns, why do you think I pay them so well?”

Peter hummed indistinctly.

“I don’t wanna hear it…” Tony murmured back tenderly, petting a thumb between Peter’s eyebrows. “Don’t you ever do that to me again baby-boy, I’m not young anymore, my cardiovascular system isn’t what it used to be…”

 

Wetting her lips, Pepper carefully stepped away from the glass, thankful for her bare feet. Several deep, grounding breaths later, she turned to leave – if she interrupted now, it would only be more of the same over-used excuses while they both pretended the other was stupid enough to believe them – and noticed the dark-haired woman slumped in one of the ugly-printed waiting chairs lining the hall.

She seemed to have dressed in a hurry. Tube socks and running shoes peeked out from underneath baggy pajama pants and a pale pink “March for a Cure” hooded sweatshirt.

Dark brown eyes stared wide and sleep deprived from behind her silver-rimmed glasses as she gazed toward the half-open door to the occupied room, clearly knowing herself uninvited, and it didn’t take Pepper long to make the connection.

“Mrs. Parker.”

The famous, ever-deceived Aunt May glanced up briefly, her chin leaning heavily on the heel of one hand, and smirked with something resembling amusement, if amusement were tragic.

“Mrs. Stark.”

She nodded towards a neighboring seat.

“Do you mind?”

May shrugged.

“No one else seems to need it.”

They sat in silence for a while, both watching the door without any real expectation of change.

It was Pepper who spoke first.

“… How are you doing?”

May slipped off her glasses and rubbed at her temples, her long hair falling like a curtain around her face.

“… well, they said the … external damage looked worse than it was, there was an exit wound, but – Dr. Fyne is recommending a full hip replacement –“ 

“No… “ Pepper interrupted carefully. “How are _you_ doing?”

The choked hybrid between a laugh and a sob was a reply that she understood a little too well.

“I went to bed four hours ago, with my nephew thinking that I thought he was at a robotics convention in Chicago, and suddenly I’m sitting in a trauma center because he’s apparently been shot in South America. How do you think I’m doing?”

Clearly not so deceived after all.

“I’m sorry.” Pepper eventually muttered, though she wasn’t certain what exactly she was apologizing for.

The silence fell again, only for May to break it this time.

“He put on a great show. Permission slips, fake websites, even phone recordings. “

“How long have you known?”

Neither seemed surprised by the question.

“Almost a year now. You?”

“Too long to excuse.”

May tightened her lips, and nodded.

“You know, for all the preplanning, he never realized it would look weird when he didn’t ask for money – you know, travel expenses, entry fees, that kind of thing. And if he wasn’t getting it from me, then…”

 

“There’s a lot people will do when they can’t get something at home.” Pepper mentioned icily. May seemed to choose not to comment.

“How’s your little girl?”

“She’ll be fine. More frightened than anything else.”

“Thank God.”

There was a flutter of movement beyond the windowpane, and they both sat up a little straighter. Tony had shifted to sit next to Peter on the mattress, but otherwise nothing particularly important. They both settled, somewhat.

“I should get back, she’ll be awake soon.” Pepper muttered, standing and numbly plucking up her shoes by their ankle straps once again. “We – we should probably leave you two alone, give you some time before the surgery –“

May waved her off.

“No need – I’m not an idiot, it’s not me he’ll want when he wakes up.”

It seemed wrong to agree, or nod, so Pepper followed her only instinct and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

May gave no indication that she’d felt the touch, or even noticed.

 

*

 

Pepper made it back to the pediatric unit in one piece, only to shatter the moment she turned a corner and the nurses’ station was out of sight. She’d mastered silent crying approximately four years ago, and it was easy to just lean against the wall and focus all her strength on keeping her jaw clenched, not a sound permitted to escape, while tears burned behind tightened eyelids and her shoulders quaked.

A hand brushed her arm.

It wasn’t much of a hardship to turn and let herself be folded into arms the size of grenade launchers, but when she finally pulled away and focused reddened eyes on his face, Caezario only nodded implicitly.

After all, she had hired him for his discretion.

Maria was still asleep when Pepper finally slipped into the exam room and stretched out beside her on the scratchy hospital issue blankets, curling her arms around her tiny body.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she whispered, smoothing back Maria’s hair. “Momma’s here…”

 


End file.
